Needs No Name
by Little Gatiss
Summary: There has been a hostage taken in order to declare war on the government. Sherlock is there to solve the case not care about the abductee. He needs no name.
1. Chapter 1

**The idea of Sherlock meeting John before deployment and the Yard not knowing has been burning a hole in my head for weeks. I don't know if this is a final product I'll probably play with this later. And maybe follow it with another chapter. No promises. **

**Unbetad written in a rush**

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><p>Lestrade didn't know how the envelope ended up on his desk, but he didn't need to be bloody Sherlock Holmes to know that the lack of address meant that it had been hand delivered. With great care he ripped the seal to find out what was waiting for him inside. Honestly, with everything that happens to them with Sherlock around Lestrade was surprised that it was only a DVD disk sitting nestled in the yellow packaging. Knowing better than to put it into his computer, since there could be a virus on it, Lestrade made his way to a TV hooked up to a DVD player. It only took a moment for the equipment to warm up and start the video. The screen stayed black, but a deep, obviously altered, voice started to speak.<p>

_"The government is broken. You are the servants of tyrants, we are the servants of peace. Due to the gravity of this situation we have decided to declare war on you and the criminals you have chosen to protect. With this declaration we have taken hostages; hostages who are also servants of your tyrant. Submit to our new ways by tonight or the hostage dies. These may be drastic measures, but it is what you have driven us to." _

Lestrade paused the video when the picture changed from black to bright lights on the hostage holding a news paper. Leaving the video there he rushed to gather his team, and maybe bloody Sherlock Holmes.

"Sally, Anderson, we have a hostage situation here! I'm bringing Sherlock in on this and there is nothing you can say that will change my mind. Get in here and start analyzing the video. I also want everything you've got on that hostage. Got it?" Neither of the dunces were pleased to hear that Sherlock would be joining them for the case, but they also understood that he was the best at finding people before the villain fired the gun.

"On it, Boss." Sally spoke for both herself and Anderson, who was sulking slightly, "Let's go. You heard him hostage situation."

Lestrade had retreated to his office to start a case file for the video and call, actually call, the Consulting Detective. The line rang several times, so long that he considered hanging up, but at last he call was answered.

_"What do you want, Lestrade?" _A very sleepy, grumpy Sherlock mumbled into the receiver. Which was odd since Sherlock didn't sleep.

"Sherlock? This is you right?" The derisive snort was an answer enough to his foolish question.

_"Yes, of course it is. You are the one who dialed my number. Now say what you have to say or I am going to hang up."_ It took a moment for Lestrade to get his head around the idea of Sherlock sleeping.

"Uh-hostage situation. We are going to need everyone in on this. That includes you." Lestrade waited anxiously for Sherlock's answer; it could be very likely that he would say no, and that was something the Detective Inspector could not afford.

_"How many hostages?"_ Sherlock asked lazily, due to the rustling Lestrade heard it seem that he was stretching.

"No number was given. He first said 'hostages,' but later says 'the hostage.'" He was really hoping that this would reach above a six on his interesting scale.

_"Hm, miss information. Tacky. He obviously only has one hostage. You don't forget about many if you had them, but you do forget to add 's' where needed if you don't. Only one hostage then. 'Says' implies there is a video to go with this demand. Get your team to ID the voice, track down the man, find the hostage. Child's play, really, Lestrade? I know you can handle this one."_ With the last sentence Lestrade knew that Sherlock's interest was already out the window, so it was time to make his last plies for help.

"This person has only given us until tonight to comply with the demands stated, which we can't meet. Plus, I have reason to believe that he is targeting police officers." The other end of the line was quiet for a very long minute.

_"Fine, I'll be right there."_ The Detective Inspectorcould have kissed him had he been there, but only on the forehead. After profusely thanking him, Lestrade hung up so he could get back to his team and hoped they had something they could go on.

He walked into the room they had commandeered, since it had a TV, while the hostage was speaking.

_"-I have been taken in the name of peace and am sitting here in order to be a warning to those who think _he_ is kidding__. I will be killed if _his _demands are not met by midnight tonight. To show that you are complying _he _will need to see the Scotland Yard building _shut down_, that is the _only_ way to get me _safely_ returned."_

As soon as the unnamed hostage finished speaking the TV screen went black. It was when the screen went black that Sherlock Holmes strolled through the door to bless them with his presence.

"About time you showed up." Anderson remarked with distaste, "I was beginning to think you were going to miss this one." At this comment Sherlock only raised an eyebrow before taking an empty seat.

"What have you got?" Sherlock asked disinterest clear in his tone. Lestrade moved to replay the video, but Sherlock snatched the remote off the table, "I don't need to see some crying officer sniffling his way through a pre-written threat. I need to know the facts." Sally's eyebrows shot up in shock, she assumed that the video would be as necessary as any crime scene.

"We have been told to renounce our support of the government by midnight tonight or he, this hostage, will be killed." Sally spoke, "We can play the video it might be more helpful." Sherlock rolled his eyes and didn't move to press the play button.

"What do we know about the hostage? Where does he work? That will give us a good idea of where he was taken."

"We're still pulling his file. It did _just_ happen you know, but we know his name and military rank-not that you care." Sherlock smirked at Anderson's jab, to him it seemed as though the idiot was catching on.

"It does not help knowing his name. His name means nothing when this ordeal has nothing to do with him." Sherlock managed to bite out.

"Sherlock, this man could have a family, wife and kids, he may not mean anything to you, but he probably means a lot to someone else." Just as Lestrade finished his lecturing a knock at the door grabbed their attention, but lost Sherlock's as a first level desk worker walked in with the file they needed, "Thank you very much for this."

"My pleasure." She squeaked out as she fled the room letting the senior officers do their work.

Lestrade opened up the thick manila personnel file in order to start handing out some answers and to form some leads.

"Alright, he volunteers at a small clinic not too far from here, we will need to speak with the woman who runs it, and it appears he lives-_what?_" Lestrade's face crumpled in confusion, but was stretched with shock. Lifting his eyes he looked at Sherlock, who looked as though the break off personally insulted him, "Uh, Sherlock, this file says he lives at 221B Baker Street." It was Sherlock's turn to look confused.

"I don't-excuse me." With forced grace he stood and pushed his way through the door and presumably down the hall. Lestrade, Sally, and Anderson saw him pulling out his phone, but nothing else.

"What's wrong with the freak? Is he broken?" Sally kept looking looking at the door expecting him to come bursting through at any minute. It took a several silent minutes, but eventually Sherlock returned and quietly returned to his seat, almost as if he had never left. It took another moment of silence before he finally pressed the play button to watch the video.

_"The government is broken. You are the servants of tyrants, we are the servants of peace. Due to gravity of this situation we have decided to declare war on you and the criminals you have chosen to protect. With this declaration we have taken hostages; hostages who are also servants of your tyrant. Submit to our new ways by tonight or the hostage dies. These may be drastic measures, but it is what you have driven us to." _

Just as before the lights flashed on to reveal the hostage sitting with a newspaper in his hands, he seemed momentarily blinded, but recovered quickly.

_"My name and rank is Captain John Watson MD. of the 5th North Umberland Fuslisiers and I __ have been taken in the name of peace and am sitting here in order to be a warning to those who think _he_ is kidding__. I will be killed if _his _demands are not met by midnight tonight. To show that you are complying _he _will need to see the Scotland Yard building _shut down_, that is the _only_ way to get me _safely_ returned."  
><em>

Then just as before the screen went dead as the video ended. Everyone around the table was quiet as Sherlock processed what he had seen.

"The abductor is a woman, he wants us to shut down the building, and he is being held down by the docks." Sherlock recited his findings numbly, eyes still fixed resolutely on the screen.

"How could you possibly know that? No one but this Watson was on screen and he kept saying 'he' because it was prescripted. And there was no indication that they are near water. Nor did he have the ability to express an opinion on the matter. I think this time you are pushing it too far." Anderson huffed staring down at the empty pad of paper he was suppose to take notes on, had there been anything to see.

"He kept emphasizing 'he' which implies that 'he' is not a he, but a she. Why else keep stressing that word? Watson also stressed the words 'shut down,' 'only,' and 'safely.' This shows his desire for us to evacuate everyone out of the building, I believe he thinks that is the only way to keep the officers in this building safe. Finally, I know he is at the docks because he tapped out in Morse Code 'docks sos.' Honestly, that one should have been a given. He taps index for dots and middle for dashes." Oddly enough this break down of facts pulls more emotion out of Sherlock, his voice was getting animated again, though his eyes still looked hallow.

"How could you possibly know index for dots and middle for dashes? He could just be tapping his fingers, nerves and all." Sally gave Sherlock a hard look as she spoke.

"Because that system is one I set up with him." He gave her an equally cold glare, but quickly gave his attention back to Lestrade, "Go and talk to Sarah, she runs the clinic, and find out if he turned up for his volunteer hours this morning. Next we should go looking through the docks."

"If we know where he is why are we talking to his boss?" Lestrade asked wondering if it had anything to do with the case or if this was an excuse to get rid of them so he could go chasing on his own.

"I need to know how long he has been missing." Sherlock deadpanned. The honesty stunned Lestrade, but he had enough of his brain functioning to tell Sally to go question Sarah and send Anderson back to his hole with the disk. Once the dunces were both gone, just leaving him and Sherlock alone in the room Lestrade spoke.

"Sherlock, what is your connection to John Watson?" He tried to speak in a comforting tone, not knowing if he was helping or embarrassing him. Sherlock was not one to be coddled, and would sooner leave you in tears than have you see him as anything other than cold and distant. Luckily Lestrade knew him better than most people, which meant that Sherlock would deal with more from him.

"Flatmate." The word was empty. Lestrade picked up on Sherlock's everything; his words echoed and his eyes were dead. If he had to guess John Watson was Sherlock's one exception to sentiment.

"Sherlock, what I am about to do I feel is for your own good. I am taking you off this case, only going to be coming to you for consulting, and will have an officer posted outside this door so you do not go running off. Also so I can keep you in sight. I don't know who this Watson is, but your head isn't clear right now." He tried to put force behind his words, but the broken look Sherlock wore made Lestrade's bark sound like a meow.

It took a second, but it seemed as though Sherlock finally had finished processing the words spoken to him. His face contorted into anger at the realization of what was happening to him.

"No. No, I will not be taken off this case. I need to find John. I need to be there when he is found." He gestured wildly as he spoke trying to convey the severity of the situation and how much it meant to him.

"Sherlock, you aren't thinking clearly and if you aren't clear in the head I can't clear you for field work." He spoke as if he actually had say in whether or not Sherlock went gallivanting through London, "We will find him. I promise."

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><p>As it turned out John had not turned up for his assigned volunteer hours, but Sarah hadn't thought too much of it since he was currently on leave and most likely wanted to sleep in. When Sherlock heard the news he visibly paled, which was hard for him to do since he already lacked color. More to the point it meant that he had been missing for three hours until the DVD was found on Lestrade's desk.<p>

All this information was turning Sherlock a green color. And Lestrade wasn't sure, but he thought he was catching phrases that sounded like "all my fault," "should have stayed in bed," and "never letting him out of my sight." These words confused the team because they had never seen Sherlock act like this before, not about anyone.

"Sherlock, you need to calm down. I have people looking through all the warehouses on the docks. We are going to find him." Sherlock gave Lestrade a dirty look; he wanted to be out there looking for this man, but instead was stuck in a room with a guard at the door. The Detective Inspector looked over the rough file they had thrown together for the case and texts he had gotten trying to keep himself informed with what was happening.

It wasn't until six o'clock, eight hours after the case opened and eleven hours since John had originally gone missing, that was he finally found in a shack on the docks wedged between warehouses in various states of disrepair. As soon as he was found an ambulance was called, then Lestrade was called so he could inform Sherlock.

It was quiet in the room he had been locked in so Lestrade's shrill ringtone was a welcome change. Sherlock looked at him expectantly as he took the call, he had been texting all day so a call must mean that they had found John. Lestrade's small smile and thumbs up was all Sherlock needed to let some of his tension slip.

"Sally found him, he is dehydrated and in need of food. They are taking him to the hospital as we speak. Apparently he is being kept over night for observation. I can get you there faster if we take one of my cars." Sherlock nodded eagerly, he currently didn't care what he had to do as long as John was on the other side. With more emotion than Lestrade had seen all day Sherlock snatched his wrist and pulled him down the hallway to the cars out on the curb.

The closer they got to Barts the more nervous it seemed Sherlock got, his eyes kept shifting and hands just wouldn't stay still. It was a relief when they finally got there and Sherlock could finally be released from the confined space. Confined it must have been because once Lestrade stopped Sherlock sprung out of the car like a Jack-in-the-Box. Lestrade barely caught up with him at the front desk.

"John Watson. What room is he in?" Sherlock stood there expectantly as the nurse looked for the patient.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Watson is only allowed family visitors for the time being." The nurse smiled apologetically ready to move her focus onto the next task, but before Lestrade could whip out his badge to get them through Sherlock spoke.

"He's my husband." Lestrade's eyes shot wide with shock, he had not been expecting that excuse, that one was just to easily proved false.

"I'm going to need to see some ID." Sherlock pulled out his wallet, carefully plucking out his ID, and relinquishing it over to the nurse. She help it to the computer so she could read both the information blurbs at the same time. Lestrade was waiting for her to call security on his lying, but that never happened. Instead she smile warmly at him.

"You husband is in room 253. Sir, can I help you?" It took a moment for Lestrade to get over the shock of Sherlock apparently being married, so there was a pause between her question and Lestrade holding up his badge to indicate that he was with the police, "Oh, well, there are still officers up there."

That was all the invitation Sherlock needed before he was racing to the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. It wasn't hard to find the room, it was the only one with officers around it, but Sherlock didn't seem to notice. He just breezed right past them to get to the man in the hospital bed.

"Oi, freak, your not suppose to be here. Family and police only. You of which are neither."

It it had been any other time Sherlock may have graced her with a response, but here and now he was too busy looking at his John. How his John was hooked up to an IV drip, looked unwell, and how Sherlock wanted nothing more than to hold him.

So that is exactly what he did. Slowly stepping up to the bed Sherlock sat next to the unconscious John holding onto his hand for dear life and softly caressing his cheek.

"Freak, you can't be in here and you shouldn't touch people while they are sleeping, it's weird." But he ignored her and let his fingers roam over the skin he knew so well. It didn't take long before John started to wake up and consciously feel the affection, "Sir, if you would like we can have him removed."

John ignored her, just as Sherlock had, and let his eyes drink in the beauty before him.

"I should have stayed in bed." John's voice was raspy from dehydration, causing Sherlock to furl his brow in concern. Wordlessly he got up and filled a glass with water, just as quietly he held the cup out to John, "Assist?" Sherlock smiled fondly has he helped John sip the water.

"You really should have, maybe today will remind you that getting out of bed is bad when it's so cozy." Sally's jaw dropped to the floor when she heard the warmth that Sherlock's voice was soaked in when he spoke to John.

It continued to fall when John placed his hand on Sherlock's hip, thumb very clearly rubbing circles on the bone. She even thought she had seen it all until Sherlock leaned down capturing John's lips with his own. Sally thought she was going to faint; this hostage must be more brain damaged than they had originally thought. The two men ignored everyone in the room, instead choosing to focus on each other. The need to faint transformed into the need to vomit as the man in the bed wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back. It wasn't until Lestrade cleared his throat that the two broke a part. The recently rescued blond only blushed remembering that they were not alone.

"Um, hello? My name is John Watson, I'm Sherlock's husband." John smiled meekly with Sherlock still practically in his lap.

"I'm sorry, you're what now?" Sally couldn't help the words that slipped out of her mouth; it was just too outrageous a thought. Sherlock married. Yeah right.

"He's my husband, weren't you listening?" The words held no bite, it seemed that the ferocious Sherlock had temporarily been tamed by his handler.

"No, that's not possible. You are Sherlock Holmes Mr. 'high functioning sociopath' you don't like anyone. Let alone enough to marry someone. Point is you're making this up. You're lying." Anderson's voice spread through the quiet room; he was only saying what everyone else was thinking.

"Everyone out!" Lestrade called, voice sounding louder than it actually was since the room was silent in the anticipation of Sherlock's response. There was much grumbling, but eventually everyone had cleared the room, "I'm sorry about him-"

"Do you always allow them to talk like that? I could see on all of their faces that he was the only one brash enough to say it. Is this really how you treat Sherlock?"

"John, it's nothing." Sherlock spoke softly brushing off the words as they hit is armor, "It's not that big of a deal." John just stared at him in disbelief and frustration.

"Sherlock-"

"John, I said it's fine." Lestrade stayed quiet as he watched the tense interaction between the husbands. John's face was stony and Sherlock's was the usual mask he wore at the Yard. The next words were careful and from Lestrade in hopes to break the tension.

"I will speak to my team, more specifically Anderson and Donavon. It is not appropriate how they speak to you, it is not professional. I apologize for that incident and I will have them come back and apologize themselves." Lestrade nodded in affirmation because that was going to happen, even if he had to hold a gun to the pair to get it done.

"I don't need you to lecture them it won't change anything and I don't need to be looked after-like some child!" Sherlock growled and stormed out, but in the opposite direction of the group of Yarders.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped-"

"Don't apologize for that. Even if he tells you not to, I want you to do that. And it seems that sometimes I know him better than he knows himself." John smiled softly.

Lestrade took the chair next to the bed, knowing he should be leaving to finalize reports and lead his team back to the office, but he couldn't leave John alone in the hospital room after he had spent the day as a hostage; plus this was a new mysterious part of Sherlock that he had no idea about.

"So, how did you two meet?" Lestrade tried to ask innocently, but it seemed to have failed since John laughed heartily leading into a cough. The DI refilled his water glass and helped him drink it, feeling as though he was stealing Sherlock's job.

"Sit back Detective Inspector because that is a very long story." They both chuckled as Lestrade made a point of settling into the rather comfy visitor's chair, "Alright let's begin."


	2. Chapter 2

**Friend said "Sherlock with a baby." I don't know if I like this, but here you go.**

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><p>Sherlock stalked down the sidewalk raising his hand for a taxi, but none were responding, it seemed that his magic taxi summoning powers didn't work unless he was on a case. It's just that he needed to get home as soon as possible and even a taxi through the terrible London traffic would be faster than walking. Ignoring that piece of information Sherlock kept stalking down the sidewalk adjusting the bag in his hand to make the plastic handles bite less into his skin. Half way home Sherlock's phone started to ring, he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Didn't John think he could do anything? He answered the phone without checking the caller ID.<p>

"Yes John, I'm almost home and I got everything we need. Calm down." Sherlock waited to be berated for quick (correct) assumptions, but the lecture never came.

"John?" The voice was very much not John's, it was very much Lestrade's, "Look I don't want to know what you two are doing, but you might want to bring him along. I've got a case for you." A case! Oh a blessed case! This was more than Sherlock could have hoped for in this phone call, it had been at least a week since the last one, and though he and John had been busy, Sherlock was starting to itch to get out of the house.

"We'll be there as soon as possible." Sherlock hung up at that, Lestrade was well trained enough to know to text the address of the crime scene. As soon as Sherlock got the address he called John, "John! John, we've got a case!" Excitement was brimming to the edge of Sherlock's voice and John couldn't help but chuckle at his husband.

"We, Sherlock? I think you mean you. As much as I know you want me there, I can't." It was true Sherlock had been nagging at John to come with him on cases, since he was much better as an assistant than Anderson. Every time a case came up Sherlock would want them both to take off into the night and hop into a taxi that Sherlock some how magically summoned. That was just not the reality they lived in.

"I know you can't usually come, but Lestrade said that you should be here on this one. He didn't say why." Sherlock almost pleaded, but he knew he won with the mention of Lestrade, apparently he was the responsible one.

"Fine, because Lestrade says I should. Are you almost home? I'll talk to Mrs. Hudson."

"I'm almost home." Sherlock could hear John moving about on the other end of the line, the rustling and creaking of steps, "I'll see you when I get there. I love you."

"I love you too." Those were their favorite words.

It only took a few more minutes of walking for Sherlock to get to the front door of 221 Baker Street, and only a few more moments until he was up the stairs in 221B Baker Street. John met him at the door smiling at the groceries his husband had brought home, laughing at the gallon of milk he had added to the list.

"Alright, Sherlock, lead the way." With a signature smirk on his face the dark haired detective grabbed John's hand dragging him down the stairs almost into the street. Once outside, and since he had a case, Sherlock was able to grab a taxi in no time. they were quiet in the back of the cab. Sherlock was prepping his mind for the information that was soon going to be racing through it. John was quiet with nerves, sure he had been in the military, but this was different, it was a police crime scene. He didn't know what to expect and that was driving him a little mad.

John was startled out of his minor panicking by Sherlock's hand on his, startled john looked up to see a reassuring smile.

"John, you are going to be fine." John could only smile back and grabbed Sherlock's hand in return.

It took a few minutes for them to get there traffic slowed them down a bit, but it was fine eventually they got there.

"Sherlock! Glad you could make it, John. We have a small problem at the scene and everyone else is needed to be working." Lestrade shook John's hand in greeting and started moving them to the the house in which the crime took place. John furled his brow in confusion, he had no idea what he could do to help with a "small problem."

"Is it Anderson being an idiot again? Because I say that that is more than a _small_ problem." Sherlock scoffed. Now they had reached the front lawn Lestrade motioned for someone to step forward, awkwardly holding a baby. Sherlock had never seen them before so he assumed he was new.

"As you can see the victims were new parents. Which makes this all the more tragic, but, John, would you mind holding him until we get this scene under control." Lestrade looked helpless, not knowing what to do with the baby. Sherlock wanted to laugh that all it took was a baby to bring the Great Scotland Yard to its knees.

"Really-"

"Of course, I'll look after him until you get things in order." John had cut Sherlock's insult off at its ankles only to shorten the bickering between him and the Detective Inspector, "Do you know his name?"

"Jacob. We found it painted above his crib." The man holding him spoke up as John took the baby from him, careful to support the baby's neck.

"Oh, Jacob, Jacob." John cooed, the man who had had the baby looked at John like he was mad, but said nothing only leaving, "I hope you have some family near by."

"Lestrade!" Sally's frantic voice called out to them on the front yard, "Lestrade! One of them is alive! Ambulance isn't here yet and I don't think he has much time!"

This got all of their attentions, there was a chance that one of the victims could be saved, but wait, where was the ambulance!

"Sally, you got to make sure he hangs on until it gets here!" Frantically, his eyes raced across his people on the scene, they all looked away, "Did someone call them?"

No one met his intense glare. They had all been so shocked by the baby that they had forgotten to notify the nearest hospital. Idiots.

"Lestrade, I can help. Army surgeon remember." Without any word from the Detective Inspector John handed the baby to Sherlock and took off into the house passing a shocked Sally on his way.

"You can't hand a baby to the Freak!" She shrieked in terror as she caught sight of Sherlock rocking the child in his arms. The Army doctor ignored her while he knelt to help the man currently bleeding out, "John, it's great that you can do this and all, but Sherlock with a baby? He'll drop the poor thing!"

"If were to drop him then he would probably drop the one we have at home, and that hasn't happened yet." John didn't look up to see the shock and horror on her face, "Sir, can you hear me, sir." The man groaned in response, "Alright I need you to stay with me. What I am going to do is going to hurt a lot and I'm sorry, but I'm trying to save your life."

"My wife," the man managed to shove the words past his lips, "please save my wife first." His eyes rolled back in his head. John tried to find the woman's pulse, but there was nothing there.

"Sir, I am sorry, but your wife didn't make it." Now John looked up to Sally, "Get me their first aid kit!"

"What?!"

"Just _do it_!" Sally ran into the bathroom grabbing the massive first aid kit sitting on the middle shelf in the closet.

"How-"

"This is there first born." Sally didn't know how that answered her question, but she remained quiet as John went through the contents.

"My wife!" The man groaned as he tried to move around. John pinned him down at the shoulders, eyes flashing to Sally for help. She obliged. John pulled out the tweezers from the first aid kit, pouring some Hydrogen Peroxide on them to sterilize as best he could. Once done with that he gently set to work trying to pull out the bullet from the man's side. Sherlock stood at the doorway still cradling the baby to his chest.

After several tense minutes of complete focus and the only sound the sobbing of John's patient, he finally got the bullet out and the bleeding to stop.

"Sally," John said calmly looking over his handy work, "what is the status on that ambulance?" Sally's eyes were huge at what she had just seen, so it took her a moment to recover.

"They should be here soon, sir." She had called him "sir" he wanted to laugh, but assumed this was not the time. Instead he got up and made his way to the bathroom to wash the blood off his hands, Sherlock followed him.

"John, that was brave of you." John kept his gaze fixed intently on the red tinted water flowing down the drain, "John, he is going to be fine." When John didn't respond Sherlock left the small bathroom. He knew that if the man didn't make it he would crash and blame himself, point out every mistake he made and how he could have done it better. It was about as healthy as what Sherlock did when he was trying to figure out a case. He made his way back into the living room ignoring the suspicious stares he got while he held the child.

"Sherlock, you can hand off the baby now. I'll take him." Sally blocked his path into the kitchen, her arms akimbo.

"No thank you Sally, I don't really trust your maternal instinct." Sherlock said dismissively.

"Yeah, well I don't trust you holding another living being. Sherlock, had the baby over." Sally words were hard, hard enough to wake the blissfully sleeping child. Jacob started to cry at the loud noise, "See, this is your fault."

Sherlock started to rock the child back and forth, humming softly under his breath. The child's cry brought John running into the room, eyes wide, probably suspecting the worst. It didn't matter, Sherlock kept his focus on the wailing Jacob.

"Oh, Jacob, it's okay you're fine," Sherlock whispered in Jacob's small ear, "You are going to be okay, Jacob." John relaxed at the sight of his husband taking care of things, but the Yarders were wide eyed and confused at the somehow gentle sociopath.

"Sherlock! Give-"

"Hush, Sally, you're only going to make Jacob cry again." John said from the bathroom doorway, he moved to stand in front of Sherlock, putting Jacob in between them, "See, he's already starting to calm down."

"John!" Lestrade was immediately shushed by both John and Sherlock. He changed his voice to a loud whisper, "The ambulance is here, I want you to go with the man so you can tell them what you did." John nodded and, with one last pat on the baby's head, left the house, "Sherlock, you're with me. We should get that baby to the hospital as well."

"Yeah, before the Freak drops him." Anderson had decided to make an appearance wrinkling up his nose at both child and detective. Sherlock assumed that was why he never had kids.

"Wait, Sherlock, do you actually have a kid at home?" Sally couldn't let the one line John had muttered out of her head. Casually Sherlock turned to look at her.

"Yes, she's six months old. Her name is Layla." Then he left once again leaving the Yard in a state of shock.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the years the Yard did get to see more of John, though not too much more since he was actually holding down a job at St. Barts since he had left the army. It was nice having the former army doctor there with them or at least at St. Barts. It made handling Sherlock so much easier since his husband was there all the time rather than only some of the time. Since then Sherlock had been getting so much better, even put on a few healthy and well needed stones, his sharp angles were no less defined just healthier looking. Lestrade never thought he would ever see this change in the drug ridden man he knew so long ago. It was good.

Well, at least he _thought_ it was good, but the last time Lestrade saw Sherlock flitting about a table full of paper work, sleeves rolled up his elbows, eyes frantically searching for information he could have missed. He noticed something odd at his elbow joint, there was a a familiar looking pin prick scab. He didn't want to believe what he saw and forgot it as soon as he had Sherlock yelling down his ear about some bloody type of flower.

That was a few weeks ago, Lestrade had assumed that John wold find it and set him right, but when Sherlock was called onto the next case there were those eery scab markings that Lestrade knew too well.

"Sherlock," The Detective Inspector called him over before Sherlock was allowed to get his hands on the case file, "We need to talk before I can let you onto this case." Sherlock raised a dark eyebrow indicating that he would actually listen to him. That must have been John's doing. Lestrade led Sherlock over away from all the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the Yarders.

"Sherlock, I'm concerned about you." Sherlock raised his eyebrow again, "I've seen those marks on your elbow. Care to explain?" The Consultant Detective snorted at Lestrade's concern.

"Oh, please it's nothing for you to be concerned about." Then left without giving Lestrade a second look, just leaving him behind to go look at the evidence that was more entertaining than their conversation. Lestrade wasn't so sure about that, he knew how much of a problem drugs had been to Sherlock before he had finally been able to get them completely out of his system. Even then it had been even more of a struggle to make sure he didn't relapse. The few lines of conversation they had managed was not very satisfying and it just left Lestrade feeling conflicted on whether or not a drugs bust was needed.

After that Lestrade kept a close eye on Sherlock, randomly checking for signs that he might be high on whatever drug he chose to push through his veins. It concerned him that John didn't seem to be picking up on the markings on his skin. Lestrade decided to bring the issue up with John. He left work early that day to do that. He didn't know how to talk about this issue to John, it was a rather delicate topic to bring up.

"Hey, John, why are you 'Watson' and Sherlock is 'Holmes'?" Lestrade asked as he visited Dr. Watson during his lunch break.

"Wow, interesting question and hello to you too," John chuckled as he bit into his sandwich, "It was a conflict of interest I suppose. He didn't want to have to change his name for the clients, not to mention the press, and I already had a career going here at Barts and changing it would have been difficult. We both just wanted to keep what we had."

Lestrade nodded that made good sense, and it was an opening topic into what he really wanted to talk about.

"What about your kid? You do have one right? Haven't heard much about it in several years." Lestrade picked at his chips trying with all his heart to just play the conversation cool.

"Her's is hyphenated. Lestrade, I do enjoy eating lunch with you, but your questions are a bit weirder than usual." John looked at him with a quizzical look as he picked at the crisps that he had gotten with his food.

"Have you seen Sherlock lately?" Lestrade asked quickly, like pulling off a band aid, but it was just as painful. Mostly because it was very poor wording.

"Sherlock?" John paused eating to look at Lestrade confused, "Um, yeah, I saw him this morning?" Lestrade cringed in on himself a little, John only chuckled at him.

"I mean," Lestrade tried to get his words in order, "have you seen his arms, lately?" John looked even more confused than before.

"His arms? Lestrade, what do you mean?" Before Lestrade could elaborate any further John's pager for the hospital went off. "Oh god, I have to go. Nice having lunch with you, I think?" He grabbed the other half of his sandwich and took off back into the hospital.

Lestrade stayed behind reflecting on how badly that went. It went terribly horribly wrong, and now John thought that he was an idiot with no sense. On top of that Lestrade didn't seem able to get the point across that he thought Sherlock was using again. It also seemed that Sherlock was hiding it so well that not even John had any idea that his own husband had relapsed. Well, if there was one person who was bound to notice and could bring it up to John better than he had, it was Mycroft. Lestrade finished his meal walking back to the Yard, during his trek Lestrade built up the courage to pull out his phone and text Sherlock's arch-enemy.

_Do you have a moment to talk? - GL_

It took a moment of breathing to calm his heart. Contacting Mycroft could cause volatile repercussions.

_Always -MH _

Lestrade let out the his breath, but his worry was still there. This might not sit well with Mycroft and if Sherlock found out that Lestrade had told Mycroft than everything would fall apart. Worst of all would be that Sherlock would refuse to help the Yard.

_Have you seen Sherlock recently? - GL_

_You know my brother and I don't get along very well - MH_

_I'm sorry, but I think he has relapsed - GL _

It was a long pause before Lestrade's phone started to ring and another moment before he realized that Mycroft was calling him.

"Oh, hello." Lestrade said uncertainly.

"What makes you think that Sherlock has relapsed?" Mycroft's tone was clinical and unfeeling as he asked.

"I've noticed needle markings on his elbow joint." Lestrade said carefully, trying to break it to Mycroft gently.

"Oh, that. That is nothing to worry about. Good day, Gregory." There was the click of the call ending and then the dial tone letting Lestrade know he could call someone else. But he was still stuck on the fact that Mycroft didn't seem to care that Sherlock might have relapsed. Which was ridiculous since the last time Sherlock relapsed it caused pain for everyone involved. Sherlock was violent, rude, and broke out of every place he was sent to, Mrs. Hudson fretted about him night and day. It was a problem to say the least. Lestrade made one more call.

"Donovan, get a group together we're pulling a drugs bust." He could hear her smiling on the other end as she called out for volunteers to storm 221B Baker Street.

It didn't take long for everyone to get ready for the drugs bust, but it did take sometime for them to be sure that Sherlock would be home, so he could see the consequence of his relapse. Lestrade knocked on the front door, waiting for Ms. Hudson to answer. When she did he only smiled.

"Hello, Detective Inspector, I didn't know we were to be expecting a case." She looked almost confused, but opened the door to let everyone in, "Why so many officers?"

"I am terribly sorry, but I have reason to believe that Sherlock has relapsed. This is a drugs bust. Donovan, Anderson lead everyone up stairs while I talk to Ms. Hudson. I'll be up in a moment." The two of them nodded herding the rest of the crew up the stairs, "I'm sorry for the intrusion, it's just that I worry about him." Lestrade followed his team up the stairs faintly hearing Ms. Hudson say something behind him, but he wasn't listening, he had drugs to find and Sherlock to protect.

John was the first person to greet him at the door, though angrily.

"Lestrade, what is the meaning of this? A drugs bust? Don't you think I would have noticed if Sherlock had started using again? Come on, I bloody _sleep_ with the man." John hissed with irritation, probably due to the cops going through his things.

"Well, true as that may be. I think you are missing something." John looked affronted at Lestrade's words, which made sense since they saw each other everyday. From that point on John fumed silently next to Lestrade as the men and women of the Yard went through every drawer and cabinet.

"Sir, I found needles." Sally commented from the kitchen. John's eyes bulged, Lestrade just smirked in triumph.

"Well, Donavon, if we have found the needles than we are sure to find the drugs. Keep looking." Lestrade didn't move, but also didn't wipe the smug look off his face as John glared at him.

"Lestrade, those are not-"

"Those are indeed my needles, but I can promise you that you are not going to find any drugs." Sherlock's deep voice caused all the searchers to pause and take notice of the irritated man. With the irritation radiating off him like toxic fumes, everyone slowly backed away from what they were searching. The air was still and tense for a few moments, before it was broken by a little curly blonde head peaking out from behind Sherlock.

"Papa, who are they?" Her loud whisper could be heard by everyone in the living room and the adjoining kitchen; Sherlock didn't respond. No one dared to speak. John walked over to his husband and the little girl, their daughter? Lestrade couldn't believe it had been that long.

"Sherlock, Lestrade is under the impression that you have relapsed. I can't imagine how he came to that conclusion, but this is another drugs bust." John's tone didn't leave much to the imagination about how he felt about the whole "policemen breaking into his house based on crazy ideas" situation.

"But, Daddy, that's silly. They obviously haven't seen all the evidence." The little girl stuck her head out from behind Sherlock's legs once again, her words were over pronounced as if they were new to her. John stooped down in front of her looking her in the eye.

"Layla, I would really like it if you were to go and wait with Grandma Hudson, just so Papa and I can work this out." Her eyes got big at his words, she clutched closer to her Papa's leg, looking up at him with big eyes. Sherlock glanced down at her, and quickly looked to John, "No point with that look, either of you. Come here, love." John picked up Layla holding her close as Sherlock stepped farther into the room.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," Lestrade cringed, Sherlock never used his full title, "I am being honest when I say I am clean and have been clean. That's what happens when you marry a doctor, you tend to take better care of yourself." Sherlock spoke with distaste, but John just rolled his eyes causing Layla to giggle, "Look in the fridge."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Donavon ransacked the fridge in the hopes of finding illegal substances.

"Sir, I found, uh, something." Sally brought a small black case into the living room, the top of it was already open revealing two needles and two bottles of a clear solution.

"Yes, good for you Donavon, you have miraculously found my daughter's diabetes kit in the fridge." Sherlock's tone was icy.

"Papa, be nice. Daddy says we can't talk to people like that _and_ that it isn't their fault they don't know everything." Layla's voice drifted throughout the room, shocking everyone when Sherlock took a breath before speaking.

"I am sure that you are concerned over the needle marks on my arm." Hesitantly Lestrade nodded, Sherlock lifted his chin, "Layla, quite understandably, is afraid of needles. So, when she takes her medicine, I take liquid vitamins so she doesn't feel alone."

"If Papa can do it, so can I!" Layla's little voice called from John's arms. Lestrade stood there in silence taking in all the information being thrown at him, the Yarders were following his lead.

"Diabetes?" Was all he could manage out.

"Yes, and if you would like her prescription to know that I am not illegally taking it we can certainly have that arranged." Sherlock stated blandly. Lestrade only stared blindly.

"I am so sorry, to you both for this intrusion. It will not happen again." Lestrade motioned for his drugs bust team to file out of the well known flat, they followed the direction silently. Leaving Lestrade, Sherlock, John, and Layla alone in the living room, "John, why didn't you just tell me this?" John furled his brow in confusion.

"What? When? At lunch?" Lestrade nodded, "I'm around it all the time I don't think about it anymore. And those questions were odd and not really related to this." John gestured to the diabetes kit still in Lestrade's hands.

"Yes, well thank you, Lestrade, for your touching concern, but you can go now." Sherlock dismissed him taking the kit and putting it back in the fridge.

"Papa, Daddy always says you have to be _nice_." Layla squirmed out of John's arms running into the kitchen. Now that the ordeal of supposed drugs was over Lestrade took a moment to look more closely at Layla. She had curly blonde hair, a perfect combination of John and Sherlock, her nose was not so pointed as Sherlock's, but she definitely had the promise of sharp cheek bones.

"Sorry if this is impeding on personal, but how does Layla look like both you and Sherlock?" Lestrade asked confused as he looked at the little girl jumping around the kitchen as Sherlock carefully held glass containers of liquid out of her reach. John only chuckled.

"I have a sister, she knew how much having a child meant to us so-well, she offered to carry for us. Also, that way Layla could have traits from both of us." John smiled as his daughter climbed onto on of the chairs in attempts to grab the container from Sherlock, after another moment she climbed onto the table, "Oh no, Layla, you know you aren't suppose to climb on the table. Try saying 'please' then maybe you'll get it."

Layla pouted, but obediently stepped back onto the chair, "Papa, may I _please_ pretty pretty _please_ have the hydrogen peroxide." Sherlock took one look at her pouting face and big eyes before sighing in defeat and handing over the beaker.

"Is this normal?" Lestrade asked surprised. John laughed and nodded.

"Let me show you out," John showed him to the door, "and if you ever pull another drugs bust in front of my daughter without explicitly asking me about it first, well, then we will have some problems."

The sentence was delivered with a grin, which only made Lestrade feel more uncomfortable. He left quickly after that, only sparing a glance up to the windows seeing Sherlock chase Layla through the living room, a huge grin on his face.

Maybe things were always going to be better for Sherlock, for that Lestrade was happy for him.


End file.
